Take Me Seriously
by mynameispaige
Summary: Go on a journey with David Tennant as he tries to win your heart for his own. Will you give in to his charms? Or will you push him away? This is a fanfiction about David Tennant and the reader where David is not famous and you yourself are put into the main character's shoes.


It was another ordinary day, just the same as all the other uneventful days that you had been having lately. You were growing increasingly frustrated with the lack of spontaneity in your daily routine as of late, so today you decided to shake things up a bit and go downtown for a walk. It was early in the morning in mid-November; the day was overcast and grey, and you wore your favorite jacket just in case it rained later on. You secretly hoped that it did; the rain always made you feel a bit lighter on your feet as you breathed in the sweet smell of petrichor and fresh rain. Locking the door to your flat behind you, you pulled your jacket in tighter against your body and set off. As you had hoped, the smell of the fresh earth relaxed your muscles and calmed your mind. You felt the tension in your neck ebbing away, leftovers from another sleepless night. You hadn't been sleeping well, results of stress that you weren't sure why you had. Most nights you would stay up staring out the window at the street below, writing out stories that you were sure would never become anything more than files saved to your laptop, or staring blankly at the telly wishing that you weren't so lonely.

You went to work every day at a small bakery where you worked behind the counter most of the time, but occasionally you would bake the pastries themselves. You enjoy your job, but you know you could do so much better than serving pastries in a rundown shop in a rundown part of town. You had always loved baking, and you would often practice recipes back at your flat, but your passion was wasted because you had no one to share your creations with. Today was your day off, and you were going to spend it doing something other than sitting in your flat all alone watching Netflix and eating your homemade delicacies by yourself.

You headed right for your favorite cafe where you ordered a black and white hot cocoa, thanked the waitress warmly, and headed back out into the drizzle. you pulled your hood up to cover your hair; it tends to get a bit unmanageable when wet. You walk over to your other favorite spot in town; a small used bookshop. you head inside and greet the owner warmly.

"Hello, Mrs. Marpole. How are you today?"

The elderly lady looks up from a stack of books she had been sorting through in the back of the store; you realize that you are the only one there other than a man sitting in the back of the store immersed in a book. "Oh hello Dearie! I was wondering when you were going to pop in. I've got some new books here for you that I thought you might like. Go ahead and rifle through them, they're in that box just back there if you like."

You smile at her as you set down your bag and beverage on the small table in the front of the shop. "Thanks, Mrs. Marpole." You pause as you notice that the man in the back of the shop has looked up from his book to look directly at you. You are now self-conscious as you have begun to slip off your coat and see him studying you. A blush creeps up onto your cheeks, and you lower your eyes, hoping that he will just go back to his book. You don't look at him as you wind your way to the back of the shop toward the box that Mrs. Marpole had set out for you. You can feel his eyes on you, however, as you start to sift through the books stacked in the box. You decidedly don't meet his gaze, though for some reason you feel that he wants you to. Unable to hold back any longer, you look up to lock eyes with him. He has a small smile on his face, one eyebrow raised in a rakish expression. You give him a puzzled look, which he returns with a saucy wink. You roll your eyes coldly at him and return to your box of books, but only to hide the ferocious blush now staining your cheeks.

Just then the bell at the door rings merrily, and you glance up to see Mr. Marpole coming in with an armful of books. You immediately rush over to help out, but the older man only good-naturedly rejects your attempts to take some of the books off his hands. "No no no don't bother yourself, I can handle this. It's only a few books, don't you mind me."

"You sure, Mr. Marpole?" you laugh as he totters unsteadily to the office bend the desk. You hear Mrs. Marpole reprimanding him about his back and how he should not be carrying that much weight. You smile at their bickering, but the smile threatens to slip off your face when you find yourself remembering just how lonely you are, and how you wish you could have someone of your own.

"Do you come here often then?" You hear a Scottish voice say. You jump slightly and turn around to see the man from the back of the shop has gotten up and is now standing right behind you. He still has that little smirk on his face, his brown eyes twinkling with something you can only describe as mischief. You don't know why but you immediately feel your defenses raising, your eyebrows lowering into a small scowl.

"Is that supposed to be a witty pickup line? Because I'm fairly certain that it's the oldest one in the book. You should really do some research." You remark cooly.

He falters for only a second, switching his weight from one foot to another. "No, I ask because you seem to know the couple that owns this shop really well."

Your reply gets caught in your throat as you realize that your hostility was out of place, and you open your mouth several times before you can actually form a proper response. "I…well…yeah I mean, I do come in here a lot. And so I guess that would also mean that I know the Marpoles really well…"

Well that was eloquent.

You wish you could just grab your things and escape into the now lightly falling rain to get away from this awkward situation. You had just made a fool of yourself in front of this stranger…this rather good-looking stranger…who was now looking at you with an almost smirk. Was he laughing at you? You felt your anger bubbling up inside at this stranger's insolence, but before you can snap out a reply the door to the office swings open and Mr. and Mrs. Marpole step out, chattering to each other.

"Well where else am I supposed to put it? That young man told me to put it where people can see it!"

"Harold you can't put it outside, just look at that weather! It'll get drenched and then no one would be able to read it! Just pin it up in here somewhere-"

"Where would I put it? You've got every inch of wallspace cluttered up with books and things-"

"We've got the bulletin board, I don't know why you refuse to just put it there-"

"Because no one goes back there! That young man wanted it to be seen, and no one hardly goes back there, therefore no one would see it!"

Mrs. Marpole sighed resignedly, clapping a weathered hand to her forehead as her husband gleefully pestered her. "I swear, one of these days…"

Mr. Marpole bounced over to her side, the disputed-over poster in hand as he placed a large and sloppy kiss on his wife's cheek. She smacked him off of her, but a large smile was stealing across her face when she realized they had an audience.

"Oh dear, what am I to do with him?" She asked you wearily as her husband bounded around the shop, looking for a suitable space to place the poster. He acted like he was thirty years younger than reality, practically skipping around the shop as he whistled a merry tune.

Your frustration had melted away as you watched the elderly couple flirting shamelessly with one another. You found a large smile had stolen arose your face while you weren't paying attention, and that the strange man was staring at you once again. You ignored him as you turned to speak to Mrs. Marpole.

"What's the poster?" You asked as you leaned over the counter to speak to the elderly lady.

"I dunno, some young fellow brought it in earlier today and asked us to put it up so that it would be seen. Harold has taken it upon himself to go above and beyond; you know how he gets."

"It's an announcement for an audition for some Shakespearean play or another, you should check it out, sounds like it would be right up your alley. Don't you thing so, Harriet?" Mr. Marpole said as he rounded the corner.

You perked up at the mention of Shakespeare; he had always been one of your all-time playwrights. His prose had always just clicked in your head, and you enjoyed reading his plays as well as watching the performances. You had always dreamed of being in one of his plays, and though you hadn't been in play for several years you grew excited at the thought of being able to do it again, and to a Shakespeare piece no less!

"Where did you end up putting the poster, Mr. Marpole?" You try to contain your excitement, but you are practically bouncing on your heels.

"Oh I put it up by the front door, go check it out already."

You turn around and walk as quickly as you can without running and head to the front of the shop. You stop in your tracks however to notice that the other man has beaten you there, and is staring contemplatively at the poster.

You ignore him and read the poster from where you are, not wanting to step any closer to him. You bite back your squeal of delight when you see that the play they are holding auditions for is Much Ado About Nothing, one of your favorites.

He chooses that moment to look back at you, and catches you smiling. You quickly wipe the smile off your face, your agitation rising once again.

"You like Shakespeare?" He asks you in his Scottish accent, smiling crookedly at you once again.

Bristling, you reply, "Yes. Maybe I do."

Smile still on his face, he looks back at the poster, then back to you. "You going to audition then?"

"What does it matter to you what I do or do not do?" You snap. In the back of your mind somewhere you are shocked at the level of venom you are slipping into your tone, but there is something about this man that just rubs you the wrong way.

"Well…" He turns to you and takes a few steps forward. "It would affect my chances of attending the audition if you were to be there." With that he smiles at you while once more raising an eyebrow suggestively at you. You can't hide the blush from him this time, which somehow makes you angrier.

"Why, so you can be sure to avoid me if I do end up going?"

He looked taken aback at the hostility in your voice, but he didn't step back. "No, I would make sure to be there if you were to go." The rakish expression transformed to a more serious one, his eyes wide with sincerity. You only blinked, not sure how to respond. Your heart was fluttering, and you were sure your face must be crimson.

He held out his hand to you. "I'm David by the way, David Tennant."

You eyed his hand warily, then took it on your own. You tell him your own name, at which his face breaks out into a wonderful smile. "That's lovely, I'm glad to have met you."

"Likewise..." You reply uncertainly, sure not sure of his motives.

"I've only just moved here yesterday, so I'm glad that I at least know one person around here."

You narrow your eyebrows a bit at him, confused. "Why would you move here?"

"I needed to get away from it all, and this end of town seemed the perfect place to go. It's quaint, and from what I've noticed so far the people here are quite friendly." He winks at you, the irony of the situation prevalent in his tone. To add to the irony you glare at him, which only makes him laugh.

"So will I be seeing you at the audition?" He asks, serious again. His eyes are wide and hopeful behind his smirk-like smile.

You stare contemplatively at him, studying him, trying to figure him out. After a moment you reply with a "We'll see," and turn to walk back to the counter. You hear the bells chime at the door as he steps out into the rain, then breathe a sigh of relief. You hadn't realized how tense you were.

"Who was that, dearie?" Mrs. Marpole asks you as she sorts through the shelves of books. "He was quite the handsome fellow; seemed interested in you. Did he ask you on a date?"

"No he didn't, Mrs. Marpole. He was rather rude." You say grumpily.

"Oh, I thought he was being flirtatious. I spoke to him before you came in, seemed a decent fellow. If he does ask you out, you should give him a chance! Might be good for you to have someone; seemed like he needed someone just as much as you do right now."

Her words echoed around in your head as you grabbed your coat and (now cold) hot cocoa and stepped out into the rain to head home.


End file.
